I Want A Refund
by Reader-Writer-Animator
Summary: As a low caste who dares to live in a high caste's house, Arcee faces many difficulties re-integrating. Society is determined to crush her for daring to be one of the privileged. But if she has good friends, she could make it. Maybe if Orion Pax hadn't abandoned her when she needed him most... And yet, even with him, can a youngling really solve a problem so terrible and complex?
1. A Helping Servo

**Been a while, eh? While this fic is technically a sequel to The Young Teacher, it can be read alone.**

 **Warning : Following chapter contains themes of suicide and abuse.**

 **TF:P's not mine.**

 **Enjoy.**

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The two mechs faced one another bravely. The roars of the crowd could be heard behind them. They were excited for the match to begin. It would be a battle between champions.

There seemed to be no fear on their faceplates, yet somebot who knew them would have seen it in the restlessness of their optics and digits. They weren't afraid of getting hurt, though. They were afraid of hurting each other.

The shorter one vented deeply. He had a small and lithe frame. Though he had no paintjob, like all lower castes, his protoform was naturally darker than the usual color. He pulled out his data cables.

The taller mech flexed his digits. He would soon be fighting his brother. (He had no family, but the mech in front of him was as close as it got.) He was heavily armored, which, he thought, gave him a slight advantage against the shorter, slender mech. "I'm sorry." he whispered. His words were lost in the screams of the crowd.

 _No!_

The shorter one dipped his helm in understanding. It was all he could do. What would be in this fight, would be. The victorious would live. The defeated would offline. That was the way it had always been. Besides, he'd never been much of a one for words anyway.

There was a sudden screech from a megaphone. It wasn't good quality equipment. What was, in the Kaonian gladiatorial pits?

"Mechs and femmes, I present to you..." The crowd grew a little quiet, out of respect for the names. They were two champions, after all. They had earned the right to be called by names, to be reforged and resparked in the arena. "Megatronous and Soundwave!" The crowd went wild.

 _Stop, please stop!_

"One, tall, handsome and fearsome! A winner of many battles!" Megatronous quirked an optic ridge. "Handsome? That's new." He muttered. His brother sniggered.

"And the other! Short, dark and dangerous. He's the one to look out for." Soundwave rolled his optics. "Who will win...?" The crowd began chanting. For once, he didn't want to know whose name it was. Not when he was fighting his brother.

 _Please... We didn't want this..._

The horn sounded and the brothers began to circle slowly, looking for an opening.

 _Both of you! Stop!_

Megatronous made the first move, rushing forward. Soundwave dodged and threw a feint before trying to kick his legs out from under him. Megatronous moved just as fast, however, and managed to land a punch. The crowd roared. It was the first hit of the match. Soundwave landed on his aft. There was suddenly venom in his optics that Megatronous had never seen before.

They met each other blow for blow.

 _No... No..._

Soundwave grew frenzied and Megatronous had difficulty fending off his attacks. A giant gash opened up in his side. The first drops of energon hit the ground. The crowd went out of control.

Suddenly, Megatronous was crazy too. He wanted – no, he needed to live. There was something driving him. What it was, though, he had no idea. Not yet. Maddened with pain and desperation, he rushed towards Soundwave. The mech opened up a second gash in him. It was deep, too deep. He stared into Soundwave's blazing optics. His faceplate. He had left it unguarded. Megatronous raised his claws, and tore it in half. Then he collapsed, still aware of the data cables gauging the now exposed protoform below his chestplates.

 _We didn't want...I'm sorry..._

Arcee woke up shuddering. The image of Soundwave's faceplates being torn in half swam across her vision. She felt sick. What did they do to him-

She needed to get out. Now. She jumped off her berth and out of Ratchet's room. Prowl, her brother, was deep in recharge on the berth beside her - as long as she blocked her end of their sibling bond, he wouldn't realize that she was awake.

She ran up the stairs and onto the roof of the two storey house. The sudden change in the atmosphere disoriented her : she was now under a silent canopy of stars, stretching out as far as she could see. A single half-moon shone dimly overhead. Faint streetlights glimmered on the road below. She could see the roofs of all the other houses, the exact same height as this one, but there was obviously nobot there this time of the night. She felt faintly thankful as she sank to the floor. The roof was small with walls on three sides, giving her some amount of privacy.

"Primus, please let them be alright." She begged. Though it had been only a dream, she knew it was true, because all three of them were connected by sibling bonds. Bonds they hadn't bothered to break. As they weren't true sparkbonds, there was no way they could communicate through them, but it gave them all a sense of connection. When any of them had strong emotions, the others could feel it, but since they were now in two entirely different cities, their bond worked erratically, showing only flashes. D-16 and S-42 (or Megatronous and Soundwave, as they were now called), had broken their bonds with Prowl after their first gladiatorial match, so that he, the sparkling, wouldn't have to feel their pain. But neither of them could bring themselves to break their bond with Arcee.

She stiffened as she felt a wave of agony course through her spark. D-16 was very badly hurt. She had to resist the urge to cry out, or she'd wake everybot up. And this would be pretty hard to explain.

Suddenly, she was back in the arena and looking at Megatronous through Soundwave's optics. It felt as though her whole faceplate was on fire. She let out a soft whimper. Megatronous raised energon tipped claws for the final blow. His optics were dim as well – he'd lost a lot of energon. The claws descended. Then it went dark.

When she came to, Arcee realised she was sobbing. She sat up and peered at the houses blearily. No lights. Thankfully, nobot had woken up.

S-42 was dead, or dying; she wasn't sure. She hoped that she would at least feel it when he finally went offline. She wouldn't be able to bear not knowing.

She pulled herself up and trudged to the railing, leaning heavily against it. If S-42 was offline...and so was D-16...that left only her and Prowl. Tears trailed silently down her faceplate.

There was nobot left for them. Her formers had offlined long ago. The bots she had run away with, D-16 and S-42, were now dead as well. Orion Pax was distant. Ratchet hated her. Sift, his sire... Well, he was okay, but it wasn't as though he cared for her or Prowl much. Master Yoketron disliked her, and the other law enforcement younglings... She shuddered and her winglets sunk and quivered. Things had hit an all time low, and that was saying something, considering her past.

Arcee squinted into the faintly lit street below. Maybe...it would be better to just end this. She shrunk back, horrified. What would D-16 say if he knew she was thinking such things? Then she shook her helm, irritated at herself. D-16 was probably dead, and imagining him here wasn't going to help that. She sunk her claws into the railing, leaving small marks.

If she committed suicide...would there really be any difference? If she died, Sift would look after Prowl. Prowl was still pretty young. She knew that he'd be sad, but eventually he'd grow up and forget all about her. He barely even remembered their formers, after all. Ratchet probably wouldn't care much. Orion would be sad for a while, and then he wouldn't care, either. And if she was dead, Prowl would be safe from the stigma of having a low caste as a sister. He was young enough to make a fresh start as a high caste. He would never have to endure what she did from the law enforcement younglings.

Furthermore, if she died, her spark would go to the Wall Of Allsparks, and she would be resparked. It would be a fresh start for her, too.

The idea of a new life, without her burdens, intoxicated her. She sat on the railing, kicking her pedes up and down as though she was merely on the climbing wall in the enforcement training building.

She closed her optics for a moment. It felt as though Primus himself was calling out to her spark.

She pushed off the railing. For a moment, she was weightless, then she was falling. Then she was jolted. A servo had caught hers and she was hauled up roughly. Reality hit her. Scrap.

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	2. A Little Closer

**Yay! 2nd chappie. Thanks to the followers, hope I won't disappoint.**

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"What in the Pits were you thinking?!" Ratchet couldn't remember being this angry before in his entire life.

He'd woken up because of the sound of pedes running through his room, and he'd thought that it was already morning and it was time to go to school. Then he'd realised that it was still night. Arcee's berth was empty. Curious and irritated, he got up to see what she was doing so late at night and maybe make his sire tell her to go back to recharge. He didn't like being woken up in the middle of the night. He'd searched the living room, the washrooms, even his sire's room.

Finally, he realised that she was on the roof and went up there just in time to see her sit down on the railing. Ratchet stopped short. She couldn't be about to...could she?

Then she fell and he rushed forward to catch her. Using all his strength – she was small, but not that light, and Ratchet was only three vorns older than her – he pulled her up.

She was looking very sorry as he shook her and shouted at her. She shrunk away from him, refusing to answer. Ratchet finally let go of her as the severity of what had almost happened hit him. If he had been an astrosecond late... He realised that he was trembling and tear slid down his faceplate. He was going into shock. She was crying as well. He collapsed onto the floor, stunned.

Questions were racing through his mind. Was it an accident, or had it been... Primus forbid it... On purpose? He had always seen Arcee as a little dumb, but surely she wasn't that stupid. No... The look on her face told him that she had fully intended to fall.

"Why?" He asked. She pressed up against the wall opposite, winglets flared out. "Why?" He repeated, more forcefully. She bared her dentas. "Like you would ever understand. You hate me anyway, why does-" she paused to wipe away at a few stray tears- " -does it matter to you? Why didn't you just let me fall and get the fragging thing over with?"

Ratchet shuttered his optics several times. Had he really tormented her so badly these last couple of orns that she thought he wouldn't care if she died? He opened his vents, but no sound came out. She continued to tremble and press herself against the wall, which gave him plenty of time to form an answer. "I... I don't hate you that bad." He muttered at low volume.

"Oh really?" She sneered. "You and the others...and-" She dropped to the floor. What she said next was far too soft for him to hear. He frowned and sat up properly. "I didn't do anything to you this bad." He said firmly.

"It's not because of you, dumbaft."

"Then-who?" He found it hard to believe that anybot could do anything that would cause her to take such an extreme step.

"You don't know them."

"Then I want to know!" She stared at him with wide optics. She was plainly afraid of how angry he was getting, so he forced himself to take a deep vent. "Tell me."

She was silent for a long time. Finally, she managed to speak. "Striker. Fellraft. Efflux. Forcen. Ripoff. From the Law Enforcement caste. 11B and 11C."

"What did they do to you?"

"No." She shuddered slid to the floor, curling up into a tight ball. Her winglets drew in close. "Please. No." She started to sob. He winced. He hadn't been expecting such a violent reaction. "What-"

"No!" She cut him off, sobbing even harder. Ratchet wrapped his arms around his pedes. What on Cybertron had they done to her? He decided to try a different tactic. "Why did they do...it?" Arcee looked at him so sharply that he drew back in alarm. "You-you don't know anything, do you? You don't know anything about me, what we've been through. You don't know, and yet you treat me like I'm a piece of scrap under your pedes!" Ratchet shuttered his optics. For the first time in a long time, she'd actually bothered to give him a fitting reply, instead of just letting him have his way.

You don't know anything about me, what we've been through. She was right. He didn't know, and he was a fool. He was hit with how very stupid he'd been, and how far it had gone before he'd realised it.

"Arcee, I'm sorry." She looked away.

"I mean it." He said suddenly. "I'm sorry for...all of it. I just...I was just being stupid. Because Orion was so obsessed with you, and he refused to tell anybot why! And then you just showed up here... Sire said he'd adopted you and Prowl, but he refused to say anything else. And I was selfish, because you took up my space and things weren't the same anymore. I'm sorry."

She sighed.

"Tell me." He said. "Tell me what this-" He gestured at the railing "-was." She looked at him warily. "Please."

"Why do you want to know?"

"I think it matters when somebot gets up in the middle of the night, wakes me up, and then tries to commit suicide right in front of me!" He yelled. Thankfully his sire was very hard to wake up when he recharged, or he would've some dashing up the stairs. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want his sire to get involved. Not yet.

"You don't want to know."

"I do!" He glared at her.

"It's a long story."

"We've got plenty of time." He growled.

She vented deeply. "I... Well, the truth is...I'm not from the Law Enforcement caste."

"What?"

"I was actually born in the cleaning castes. After my formers offlined, I ran away with Prowl. Two bots named D-16 and S-42, who had run away as well, found us when we were on the brink of death. We stayed together for some time-" She told him how she'd 'bumped' into Orion, who began giving them lessons because they were illiterate. "And then we were caught. D16 and S-42 were sent to the Pits." Another tear appeared on her faceplate. "They're probably offline now. Prowl and I – you know what happened to us."

Ratchet listened as she spoke in a faltering voice. Finally, she looked up at him. "It would be better this way." She said, pointing to the railing. Ratchet's optics widened as she proceeded to explain all the reasons she could think of in favor of jumping off. As she spoke, she became calmer and calmer, even as she talked about her tormentors.

Ratchet was aghast at the thought that she was going to try to jump, again. "But-but- what about Prowl?!"

"I told you." She snapped impatiently. "It'll be easier for him. Happier too, probably." She rose.

"No!" He stood up as well. He was a full head taller than her, even at this age. "I won't let you."

"Why?"

"I-I can't! I'm not going to let you just-just die!"

"How does it matter to you?" She asked, trying to sidestep him, and failed. "This is my decision. I'm taking it for my brother and for myself. There's nothing else I can do, and the Guilds will be happy to see me dead, so there won't be much of an investigation. You could just say you were recharging."

"What? No! That's not what I'm worried about!" He said desperately. "Don't just throw your life away like this!"

She met his optics. "I can't take it any more. What they do to me – you don't know – you don't understand – please – just let me-"

"No. I'll – I'll do something about it – we'll complain-"

"I've tried that."

"Please, Arcee. I'll do something – anything, I don't know – I'll punch them in the face, if you like-" Ratchet paused, realizing how ridiculous that sounded. Him, a bot from the engineering caste, offering to punch bots from the law enforcement caste? But he plowed on anyway. "We'll talk to Orion, see if we can find anybot that can help – we'll get back at them, and you won't have to be so afraid of them any more. And Prowl won't cry his optics out, and I-I won't – just – please!"

Arcee began to shake again, more tears coming out. "There's nothing you can do!" He placed a servo on her shoulder. "There is." He promised. "We just have to find it."

"You don't even know what you're talking about."

"I know, right?" Ratchet mock-grumbled, trying to lighten the situation. "And Orion Pax calls me pessimistic."

She frowned. "And if there is no way?"

"I don't know – but I'm not going to stand here and let this happen!"

"Fine." She answered, finally losing her nerve and letting go of the wall. They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, more tears forming in Arcee's optics, till he reached out awkwardly to pat her helm. To his surprise, she put her servos around him...and began to cry all over again. He sighed and put a servo around her as well.

"Just... don't do something like that again." He whispered shakily. "I – it was – scary."

He patted her helm again, unsure of what to do with her. Finally, he guided her back inside, resolving to question her more in the morning.

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	3. An Accusation

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"ORION PAX!"

Orion shuttered his optics and looked up apprehensively, expecting that it was an angry teacher. What he did not expect to see, however, was a furious Ratchet dragging a scared Arcee across the school grounds to their table at break time. Plenty of younglings were staring at Ratchet as he approached. Orion felt fear settle into his tanks – Ratchet was terrifying when angry, though he'd never yet been on the receiving end of the young bot's temper. What had he done, anyway? There wasn't anything he could think of, and definitely nothing concerning Arcee.

Once Ratchet got to their table, he pushed Arcee down onto a seat, and sat down exactly opposite Orion.

"You are the biggest glitch I know." Orion raised an optic ridge – Ratchet always tried not to swear.

"Ratchet, please." said Arcee, gritting her denta and covering her helm with her servos. "Don't blame him."

Orion decided to address the calmer bot. "Arcee, what's he talking about?"

"Oh, so now you're talking to her, are you?" Orion opened his vents and closed them a couple of times, unsure of what to say. "You fragging idiot, you were her only friend. Do you know what she tried to do last night?"

"Ratchet, no!" Now Arcee was angry. "You said you wouldn't tell anybot!" Ratchet's faceplates contorted. "He needs to know."

"I thought all of you wanted me to stop talking to her!"

"That was before – before all of this! Look, I was a glitch, too okay? That doesn't mean you had to be one as well! Do you know what she tried to do last night?!"

"No." answered Orion in a very small voice.

"She attempted-"

"Ratchet, shut UP!"

"She attempted suicide."

"What?"

He looked to Arcee with wide optics.

She leapt out of her chair and ran away.

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 **Extremely short chapter, I know, but I felt that it should end with a punch. The rest will be as long as the previous two at least. What do you think? Leave a review!**


	4. A Slight Suspicion

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Ratchet was feeling guilty.

True, he'd been very nice to Arcee the whole solar cycle – when she'd stomped off after he yelled at Orion, he'd sat with her in an empty classroom and let her cry for the rest of their break. He'd done his best to be silently supportive, listening as she described what she'd gone through these past orns in more detail. When Orion Pax had interrupted them, he'd yelled at him again, and even though Arcee didn't say anything, he could see that she was burning to join in.

She was much more mature than him. She was trying her best not to blame him, she said, but it was hard not to some times. And some of it really wasn't his fault – she surely couldn't blame him for not wanting to associate with a low caste in public, she argued. Ratchet hotly disagreed. He himself was associating with a low caste in public, for Primus' sake. Sift had taught him not to believe in any of that kind of stuff. Therefore, Ratchet concluded, Orion Pax had acted like a glitch head, no matter what Arcee thought.

In spite of saying all these things, even defending her against Jazz's jibes to the point of having him tease him about how Ratchet had suddenly 'fallen in love' with her, he still felt incredibly guilty.

Though he hadn't physically bullied her, he'd still deprived her of her only friend (even if that was mostly Orion's fault) and he'd done his best to make her feel unwelcome. After a point she just stopped fighting back and let him do what he wanted. At the time, he'd wondered why, but had never pursued the question; now, the answer seemed obvious. She was a low caste, and I was treating her like a high caste would generally treat a lower caste... Sift had taught him to treat everybot the same, but he hadn't even realised what he was doing until she had pointed it out to him... I must have a monkey-wrench for a processor.

What more could he do to improve the situation? He stared dully at her berth in his berthroom, feeling drained after doing so much arguing with both of his best friends. He slowly became aware of how little there was on it, unlike his own, which was at its messy best. In fact, there was nothing on hers, aside from a small, neatly folded up square of polishing cloth. Of course, he thought ruefully. He knew how poor low castes were. She had nothing to own. He resolved to give her all the old stuff he had. He'd make sure that she had separate datapads for each subject, like he did, instead of just the one that he'd given her; he'd give her all his old toys that he no longer played with; and he would buy her something with this orn's credits. There.

He sat down tiredly on his own berth.

Something still nagged at him, though. Those law enforcement younglings... They were Arcee's main problem. Her lack of stuff was just peripheral.

She'd still refused to talk about what those bots had done to her, though he could tell that it was weighing heavily on her processor. He could easily guess that whatever it was happened during training, but it was beyond the scope of his imagination to figure out what it was. He asked her if they beat her up, but apparently that wasn't it. What, then...?

He shrugged his shoulder caps. He'd considered the issue more at night, because he couldn't recharge, and also in the morning and at school. Law enforcement was above engineering, his own caste, so there really wasn't any way he could interfere by bringing in an authority...not even his sire, even though Appa was Arcee's legal guardian. He gnashed his dentas. If only he was an Elite caste, or something... He sighed. No point in thinking about impossible solutions.

Arcee was currently at training, wasn't she? The enforcement caste started training earlier than any other caste, so she had to go even though she was still six vorns old. Maybe...he could go there and walk her back home, like he was actually supposed to. His sire had tried to make him do it, since Arcee was still pretty young and he had been a little concerned about her and Prowl making it home safely, but Ratchet had point-blank refused. Appa had shrugged, saying that he couldn't force him.

Yes, he would go do that and be nice to Arcee. With that thought in mind, he sped through all his homework, and at 1755 cycles, he was trotting out the front door to get to Thanix, the Law Enforcement quarters of Iacon.

In about a breem, he was standing outside the training building, and he quickly checked his internal chronometer. He was just on time – younglings, some Arcee's age, some older or younger, streamed out of it. They give him odd looks – his build clearly gave away that he wasn't from their castes – and bots from other castes rarely ever came into Thanix, unlike, say, Dnanix, the Engineering Sector. Still, Ratchet persisted. He turned the corner and leaned against a wall, figuring that Arcee would see him when she passed out of the building.

After around two more breems, Ratchet was still leaning against the wall all the other bots were gone, and there was still no sign of Arcee. He was now confused. Where was she, and why was she late?

Then he thought a little more about things. He knew for a fact that her training ended at 1800 cycles. It had taken him less than a breem to get here, but Arcee never came home till around 1830. It didn't add up.

Something was horribly wrong. Then again, he already knew that.

He heard a muffled shriek and a clanging noise. Ratchet frowned and peeked around the corner. What was that...?

Arcee.

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	5. A Reckoning

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 **Guest: Glad to know you liked it! Well, it is a T-rated story, and as I warned at the beginning of the first chapter, this story contains abuse. However, this chapter is the extent of it. So you can skip this chapter and I'll provide a summary in the next if you don't want to read. It is important to the plot, rest assured.**

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The instructor gave her extra rounds, because he felt like it. She ran, as he commanded, but she cursed him under her vents the whole way, though she was careful not to let him hear. When he finally let her go she went to the sparkling play rooms. Law Enforcement sparklings were trained from two vorns to play aggressive games and develop the 'fighting spirit'. She collected Prowl, lingered for as long as she dared and walked slowly to the exit, hoping, praying that they wouldn't be waiting for her.

They were, of course.

The tallest one, Fellraft, had a smirk on his faceplates. "You're late, sweetspark."

Sweetspark was what her formers had called her. What she called Prowl sometimes. She hated it when they mocked her like that.

He placed a firm servo on her shoulder-plates and 'guided' her out. As usual, nobot was around.

Prowl clung tightly to her, knowing what was coming. "Forcen, hold him." Efflux called. Forcen prised Prowl away from her, as usual, with great difficulty. The yellow and blue bot then straddled the sparkling between his pedes and held him, so that he wouldn't be able to move. They all took it in turns to hold Prowl. As though this were some kind of ritual.

She swallowed.

Fellraft's smile grew wider. He was never one of the bots restraining Prowl. He was the chief, the leader, her main torturer. "So, lowlife," He never called her by name, of course. Low castes weren't supposed to have names. "How're we doing today?" A servo moved from behind and pushed her helm against the wall, so that her back faced them. By now, she had memorized each and every detail on the wall : it was made of dark, craggy stone, with little juts that she was afraid would one day poke her in the optic. "Well, I hope? Managing to keep up with the sparklings, I suppose. But since you just started training this stellar cycle, I doubt if you could even do that."

"Well, here's the deal: If you leave your brother behind for today, I'll spare you for the rest of your life. You taking it today, or are we doing this again?"

She shook her head, as she did every single solar cycle they asked this question. She wasn't sure what exactly they wanted to do to Prowl, but she cold let it happen. At any cost.

His voice turned venomous. "Ungrateful scraplet-spawn, these low castes are." He spat.

Arcee tuned him out. She'd heard worse, she reminded herself. There was no need to reply to him, just to keep her helm down and submit. Then they'd go easier on her.

She snapped back to reality when she felt sharp claws moving on her winglets.

They'd discovered that weak spot, her winglets, only three solar cycles ago. It was guessed that they were formed on a bot when they were grounders related to Seekers. Since Seekers were Elite castes, they were a much prized sign of beauty amongst the lower castes. Arcee had been proud of having them.

Wings were very sensitive, and winglets merely had the same amount of sensory nodes crammed into a smaller space. This made the armor very thin, practically protoform, making it even more sensitive. In fact, they were the most sensitive part of her anatomy.

All this meant that it was practically considered a crime to touch a bot's winglets without permission, even if they were medics.

Those claws frightened her in a way nothing else could.

They knew that, no, they enjoyed it.

At least they weren't doing it to Prowl, she reminded herself. She prayed that would never happen. If this was the price she had to pay, so be it.

The claws slid up slowly, poking here and there, just to make her cry out. She heard them laugh, as though this was a great big fragging joke. They reached the tips, and got a good grip on them. She resisted the urge to cry. I can't let Prowl see me cry. Then the servo twisted.

Because the armor there was so thin, and also because she was still very young, it was pliable. He winglets actually twisted, deforming the metal. She screamed. Pain shot up her winglets and into her spinal struts.

Suddenly, another servo knocked her helm against the wall. It bounced off, rattling her processors and making the wall, the only thing she could see, swim in and out of focus. "Shut up!" A voice hissed in her audio receptors. "If Master Yoketron hears, then we're dead! And then we'll offline you!"

She wanted, so badly, to scream. Her processor slowly inched its way back to normal, and made her slowly aware of the pain from her winglets, making everything clear and defined : she could see all the little shadow and lights on the stone playing with each other in high definition. The pain ebbed and surged at odd intervals. She was vaguely aware that the other younglings were arguing, but she had no idea over what.

Then a loud shout, and they all fell silent. Then the servos restraining her let go, and she collapsed to the ground.

Ratchet was not a heroic mech. In fact, when he saw what was going on by the training building, his first instinct was to run away. Him, an engineering caste bot, against five law enforcement mechs? He'd be slagged in five microcycles.

And even if he hadn't minded volunteering to be slagged, it wouldn't help Arcee or Prowl.

He gritted his dentas. Running away was not an option. Ratchet could see Arcee's crumpled winglet. That would need repairing. Heck, he was surprised she was still standing. He knew how sensitive winglets were.

He glanced at the bullies. They were arguing, and their voices were slowly getting loud enough for Ratchet to hear. "You fragging idiot, you're the one who bent it-" The tallest one bent over a green and red mech threateningly. "Well, what do we do with her now?" interjected the one holding Prowl, sounding bored. The tall mech scowled at him. "If she screams again, Yoketron'll come here. And then he'll kill us."

Rage began to boil in Ratchet's spark. Just how long had they been doing this to her? And why had he never bothered to find out until now? He hadn't known, but... In hindsight, it seemed rather obvious that something had been going on. He hated himself for being so stupid.

Yoketron'll come here. They were afraid of their own Guild Master. Ha! That was something he could work with. If he made a loud enough noise, would Master Yoketron come running out of the building?

"Just dump her here." said the dark violet femme, who was leaning against the wall opposite Arcee, some distance from where it bent into Ratchet's corner. "We can say that we had nothing to do with it, and even if she says it was us, who's going to believe somebot like her?"

"Oh, but she won't say that it was us. She knows what we'll do to her if she does."

"Then let's get out of here!"

No. He couldn't let them get away. They'd done a lot to Arcee already, and they had to pay for it. To distract them, or...? No. The only real option was to run into the enemy and hopefully cause enough of a ruckus that Master Yoketron would come out. It was the no-cowardice-allowed option, and Ratchet knew he could well end up needing repairs himself. But he couldn't waste time gathering his courage. So he charged.

He plowed right into the violet femme, throwing her to the ground. Then he swung at the tall one, only for him to catch his servo and twist it. "What's your malfunction?" He demanded. Ratchet winced as the others gathered around them.

Then he remembered that the point of this whole exercise had been to make some noise, and he hadn't made a peep yet. "MASTER YOKETRON! MASTER-"

He was slammed to the ground. "What do you think you're doing, huh?"

"MASTER YOKE-"

A door swung open violently. "What is going on here?" A powerful voice boomed. Ratchet looked up to see an old white and silver mech with broad shoulder caps and a long staff standing in the doorway. Ratchet spoke before anybot else could. "They were touching her winglets!"

Yoketron looked enraged. It was satisfying to see somebot else get angry on Arcee's behalf after aguing so much with everybot he knew. "You five! Inside. Now." The tall mech gave him a last kick and a dirty look as he left. Then the door swung closed and Ratchet realised that Yoketron was gone, too.

Ratchet lifted himself off the ground carefully. He heard the pattering of light pedesteps and without thinking, braced himself for another attacker, only to realize that it was Prowl, running to Arcee, who had collapsed. The little sparkling was sobbing. "Agraja? Agraja!"

Ratchet crawled up to her. She seemed unconscious. He shook her shoulder-plates. "Arcee. Wake up. We've gotta take you to a medic." Ratchet glanced around for help, but the lane was deserted and almost dark. He realised that he might have to call his sire. Just as he was on the verge of touching his comm. link, she onlined her optics. They were hazy, but at least he wouldn't have to carry her to get her fixed up, or something. "Arcee?"

"Agraja!" Prowl burst into fresh tears. Arcee shook her helm and tried to pull herself up, but failed. The sparkling put his arms around her helm tightly. When he finally let go, Ratchet offered her a servo. She took it hesitatingly, and tried to haul herself up, but failed again. Finally, Ratchet steadied her and with his aid, she was able to sit properly. Ratchet discovered that it had been because her damaged winglet had been scraping against the ground. With a sigh, she let Prowl crawl into her lap. "I'm pathetic, aren't I."

"No, you're not." said Ratchet firmly. "You just need a medic."

She shook her helm. "Please, no medics."

"How will you fix that, then?"

"I don't know, but how on Cybertron are we going to explain how it happened?"

"We can tell them the truth."

"Huh?"

"That some bots were bullying you, and they...did that to you."

She vented deeply. "And what can I tell them when they ask why?" Tears appeared in her optics. "I..." Ratchet trailed off, not sure how to respond. She was right; while bullying happened, it was mostly an abuse of power. Her own caste mates bullying her was sure to be looked into. And going as far as to touch her winglets... Well, it wasn't exactly common. By chance, he happened to glance up, and spotted Master Yoketron observing them from the third storey balcony. The old mech nodded at him. He was watching over them.

He gripped her shoulder-plates. "Never mind that for the moment. Arcee, they won't hurt you again."

She perked up. "What do you mean? How come?" He described all that had happened as quickly as he could. "Why didn't you talk to Master Yoketron before?" He asked quietly.

She winced. "I did. He-he said – that he couldn't interfere...that he couldn't change the attitudes of all his caste – that I would just have to bear it-"

"No..."

"-That this wouldn't be the last time- that I was going to pay the price for trying to reach above my caste all my life – the sooner I got used to it, the better..." She shook at the last sentence. Prowl gripped her tightly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Prowl. I-I-" Her voicebox glitched.

Ratchet said nothing. He looked up, searching for Yoketron, but he had disappeared from his balcony. Rage gathered in Ratchet's spark. "Slag you! She doesn't deserve this!"

Nobot appeared on the balcony. Ratchet got up and stomped over to the wall, kicking it. "Stupid-slagging-idiotic-fragging-miserable-!" His pede started to hurt. He stomped back to Arcee. She looked up at him with wide frightened optics. "Get up. We're going to a medic."

"No!"

"You don't have a choice. Move. Now."

Tears started to gather in Arcee's optic again. "Please. Ratchet. I can't!"

"You think Appa isn't going to notice when you come home with a deformed winglet?" He demanded. "And what are you going to do at school tomorrow, huh? How are you going to hide it from the instructors? From Orion?"

She flinched away from him. "Ratchet, please..."

"What are you planning to do about it? Are you just going to leave it like that? Doesn't it hurt?"

"It does." She mumbled. "Then what are you waiting for? For Hadeen to turn green?"

"No. Ratchet, no. Let's go home."

"What d'you mean, go home!"

"Sift – your sire – knows that I'm a low caste." She reminded him urgently. "He's the only one who might be able to do something."

Ratchet considered this for a moment. "Alright." He held a servo out to her. For a moment, he was terrified that she wouldn't take it and he could not deal with this. Then she took it, and stood up. He looked her in the optics. Those ringed optics, mark of mutated CNA, the price of being a low caste.

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 **A longer chapter? How was it? Please leave a review, they're my sunshine!**


	6. An Agreement

**Here you go! Sorry for the longer wait.**

 **Lalacute: Glad you liked it! The bullies will get their just deserts... but their rage is simmering below the surface. Arcee seeing Megatron and Soundwave... I doubt that'll happen in this fic.**

 **Don't own TF:P.**

 **Enjoy.**

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"Well, Ratchet." The old mech paused. "Your name is Ratchet, isn't it? Sift's mechling." The youngling in front of him nodded. "Firstly, I must apologize. I knew what was happening, but I ignored it. I never thought those idiots would go that far. I am glad that you interfered and brought it to my notice. I overestimated Arcee, it would seem, and didn't take into account her history as a low caste."

"Sir, why did you wait?" asked Ratchet hotly. "She was-"

"I cannot interfere whenever she has a problem. Whether she meant to or not, she brought this upon herself when she shifted to the higher castes. There is little I can do about the Enforcers' dislike, or prejudice. Even if I tried to interfere, they would not listen to me-"

"But you're the Guild Master!" Ratchet quailed under the look Yoketron gave him. "Sorry."

"Though I am the Guild Master, only time can change deep rooted attitudes like caste prejudice. I have learned this over the millennia I have been alive. You would do well to listen to me, youngling. Or I will make you run rounds on the training grounds. You might not be an Enforcer, but I still have authority over you. Do not interrupt me again."

"Yes, sir." They were sitting in Yoketron's office, in the Law Enforcement training building. He'd only gone there because he had been walking Arcee and her younger brother, Prowl, there, after school. He hadn't been expecting to be called up himself.

"In any case, I did not bring you up to discuss my reasons. I wanted to speak to you about protecting Arcee. You are around her age, and you live with her. You will be able to do it. Any objections?"

"Protect her?"

"Yes."

"I – I can't protect her! She's from law enforcement, I'm from engineering, she should be protecting me!"

"I did not mean physical protection." said Yoketron quietly. "I meant mentally, and guarding her spark. You are young... But surely you now that the spark can be violated?" Ratchet shuttered his optics. He had heard of such things, but only in passing. "I guess..."

Yoketron sighed. "No, you do not know. The spark of Cybertronian is a fragile thing. If you choose to share it with somebot, your very life essence, it is called a sparkbond. A sparkbond can be created in two ways : either by actively sharing the spark through the process of interfacing, or-" Ratchet goggled to hear the i-word being thrown around so casually. "Do not look at me like that, youngling. We are speaking about serious matters." Ratchet somehow managed to maintain a sober face.

"As I was saying, through an interface, or through physically being near the bot in question and sharing with them emotionally. Unfortunately, the former method can be forced. That is called violation of the spark. Do you understand?"

Ratchet nodded. "But what does this have to do with Arcee?"

"You know what happened yesterday."

"They were touching her winglets." The youngling muttered, clenching his fists. "Exactly. I am worried that they might take it a step further. Especially since they got caught... They left this office angry, even though they have been heavily punished, and will, no doubt, want revenge. They won't go after you, though. It is Arcee I am worried about."

Ratchet opened his vents, then closed them and looked away. Dread gathered in his tanks. "When?"

Yoketron shook his head. "I do not know. You must understand, these are only suspicions."

"But how... could I possibly protect her? I'm not a fighter, I don't have any kind of training..."

"Stay with her. Become her confidant and friend. Be patient with her. Pay attention to her schedule, and make sure that she is never alone or loitering. Keep her occupied, and don't let her become depressed. Instill some confidence in her, so that she starts asserting herself. At present, she is very submissive, because she expects to be treated badly. It is not a good thing, neither for her, nor for her brother. You can do this, correct?"

"What about her brother?" Ratchet asked quietly.

"She seems devoted to him and will do what is necessary to protect him. I don't see any problems there."

"You didn't see any problems with Arcee, either." Ratchet pointed out. Yoketron looked at him for a long moment. "While that is true, you must trust my judgment. Keep an optic on him as well, if you like. But I do not expect anything to happen."

Ratchet nodded and vented deeply. He was being entrusted with a huge responsibility, so big that his nine-vorn old processors couldn't wrap even halfway around it. "You may go. Tell Arcee she is to come up here in exactly five minutes. You will find her in the Hall of Razorfire."

He had no idea where that was, but got up and staggered to the door, feeling as though today and yesterday had been one long nightmare. "And," Yoketron added as Ratchet placed his digits on the knob. "What did you yell at my balcony yesterday? I couldn't quite hear."

Ratchet froze. "It was, thank you for helping her, wasn't it? You see," Yoketron said kindly, "Otherwise I may have to punish you. And I would rather not."

The mechling caught on. "Yes sir, it was." He stepped out and closed the door behind him.

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	7. A Take That!

**I'm back! Replies:**

 **Lalacutie: I'm not sure. I technically do have another story in The Young Teacher series, but I doubt that I'll ever write it down in full, or publish it. But I'm glad you're enjoying this!**

 **I don't own TF:P.**

 **Enjoy.**

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Arcee stared at the office door, terrified.

Everything about Yoketron's summons screamed punishment. Ratchet had assured her that the Guild master wouldn't punish her - after all, she hadn't done anything wrong - but she was not a trusting femme.

Besides, she'd disclosed the fact that she was actually a low caste to Ratchet, and she was sure that Yoketron would be furious about it. He'd expressly warned her not to tell anybot.

She delayed knocking on the door for a full microcycle. Then she decided that the master would be even angrier if she kept him waiting. So she steeled herself and knocked on the heavy metal door. "Come in." The voice sounded tinny on the outside, and she had the bizarre urge to laugh.

Inside, to her surprise, she could see two . other younglings standing in front of Yoketron, who was at his desk. "Come in quickly! And shut the door."

Once she had done so, she stood beside the two others. Arcee glanced at them curiously. One was around eleven vorns old. He had a steel paintjob with red detailing. His frame was all hard edges and sharp squarish armor. His expressionless face unnerved her. The other femme was around Ratchet's age, with an electric blue frame and white touches. Her armor was stylish but heavy. When they noticed where she was standing, they stared back in disgust. How could a low caste even think of standing next to them?

"Arcee, these two are Chromia-" Yoketron indicated the femme, "-and Ironhide. Chromia and Ironhide, for the clarification of all involved, state your offenses."

"We were fighting in the corridor." answered Chromia in a dull, bored tone. Yoketron tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Exactly how many times has this indiscipline occurred, Ironhide?"

"Forty-four." The mech said stiffly.

"Exactly. Which is why I have decided to teach you a lesson, once and for all. Initially, I was going to make you run up and down Mount Tam in a three legged race." Chromia and Ironhide glanced at each other in horror.

Master Yoketron leaned across the desk. "But then, I thought of a more productive way to punish you." Arcee shuttered her optics. Wait, what about her? Was she being punished too, or what?

"You three will train together, as a team, for the Annual Iaconian Freeform Fighting Championship. And I want you to win."

Three jaws dropped.

"But sir-"

"The femme's too young-"

"She's a low caste, we could never win-"

"She hasn't even been given her Primary Weapon yet-"

"She has flimsy armor-"

"And Ironhide is a fragger who will annoy me to death in a solar cycle if we start training together!"

"Why, you little-"

"Enough!"

The two younglings glared at each other.

"I am doing this because I want you to learn to work together! Sometimes, we have to work with bots that we do not like. That does not mean that you allow it to affect you! Is that clear?"

"Yes sir." Ironhide replied sullenly.

"Chromia! Do you understand, or not?"

"Yes sir. But sir, how could we possibly win with her on our team?" Chromia indicated Arcee with a flick of her helm, as though she were beneath notice.

Master Yoketron smiled. "That is for you to figure out."

* * *

"How was your day?"

Arcee cocked her helm at him. "Okay."

"Nobot said anything to you?"

The femmeling made a face at him. "Fine. It was horrible. Happy now?" Ratchet frowned. "I'm just asking." Arcee kicked at a stone in her path. "I'm just telling." It had been five solar cycles since the the bullies had been caught, and two since Ratchet had been called up to Yoketron's office. He knew that it would take a while before she didn't mind being nice to him; he'd been terrible to her for three whole orns before he'd realised his mistake. Still, it was starting to irritate him. He was trying to be nice. Why did she have to assume that every other thing he said was meant to annoy her?

He sighed. Be patient with her. He was still trying to work out exactly how to go about obeying Yoketron's orders. So far, it wasn't going too well. "What happened?"

She shrugged. "Usual stuff. Stupid instructor. Stupid other bots. Stupid, stupid, stupid."

"How's that competition thing going?"

"Lousy." She stated curtly. Ratchet sighed. They walked in silence for a little while. "It wouldn't be so terrible if I were actually good at it." said Arcee suddenly. "It's not my fault I'm not built like them. It's not my fault I have flimsy low grade armor! It's not my fault I'm not huge and bulky!" she spat, stomping ahead and dragging Prowl with her. Ratchet shrugged. "Why are you so mad about it, then?"

"'Cause – I – They think I'm weak! And I'm not!"

"Well, why don't you figure out a way to prove it to them?"

"They just – don't – listen. No matter what. They treat me like I can't understand what they're saying, like I have underdeveloped processors. They keep talking about how we're going to lose because of me and they're going to have to run up Mount Tam as punishment. And Ironhide is just mean."

Ratchet was immediately on the alert. "What did he do?" She waved him off. "He just keeps hitting me all the time, that's all." She made it sound like it wasn't a big deal at all, but then, considering the pain she'd been through before, it probably was nothing to her. Still... Well, at least it explained her bad mood.

They were now in the Dnanix, or engineering, sector. The heavy sounds of machinery and welders filled their audio receptors, and Ratchet noticed Arcee dragging her steps. She was only moving forward because Prowl was making her. He stopped to let them catch up. Keep her occupied, and don't let her become depressed. What could he do? "What's gotten you so..." He didn't even know how to frame the question. Arcee ignored it.

Keep her occupied. Was there something he could do about that, at least? He didn't know. How on Cybertron was he supposed to take care of her? He was just three vorns older than her, for Primus' sake.

She glanced at him, and he immediately rectified his scowl. She didn't need to know his troubles. She had enough to process already. What then, did she need?

Arcee noticed it anyway. "What's wrong?" She actually sounded concerned, which was more than he deserved from her. "Don't worry about it." Arcee scrunched her optic ridges, exaggerating her frown. It was practically her base expression now. He shuttered his optics. When was the last time she'd smiled? He couldn't even remember.

Then it hit him. What Arcee needed was some fun. She probably hadn't had anything entertaining to do in a pretty long while. He'd given his old toys to Prowl, but Arcee was a bit too old to play with toy cars and planes. "Hey, Arcee..."

"Huh?"

"Would you like to go to the park?" Arcee shuttered her optics. "Uh..."

"You've never been to a park, have you?"

"No."

"Come on, it'll be fun."

Arcee still seemed hesitant. "What's there?"

" There's a swing, and – You've never been on a swing, have you? And there's a seesaw, and a climbing wall-"

"No climbing." She said firmly. Ratchet shrugged. "Okay. There's a big ground there, too. Maybe we can play something. Lots of younglings come there. They're all from Dnanix, though..."

"Then let's not go."

"You don't have to talk to them if you don't want to. Besides, you have to go on the swing! You'll like it. Promise."

She looked back at him, weighing her options. "Agraja," Prowl interrupted her thoughts, "We go?" She looked down at him for a moment, then turned to Ratchet. "Okay. Let's go."

Ratchet grinned. "Good. Let's go tell Appa first, though."

As they walked towards the house, the noise of machinery slowly died away. Ratchet rang the bell. Sift grinned down at them. He had been very happy about the change in his son's attitude toward Arcee and Prowl, and so he smiled extra wide when opening the door for them, when they all came in together. "Hello!"

"Hi, Appa, listen." Appa listened, cocking an audio receptor. "We're, uh, going to the park." Sift looked understandably surprised – Ratchet hadn't been to the park since some younglings had poured gravel down his armor because he ran too slow. Of course, it had only been a prank, but the result had been that Ratchet hadn't been there since he was seven vorns old. "And...you're okay with that?"

"I'm nine vorns old now." Ratchet pointed out proudly. "I've gotten over it."

"Good for you! Okay, younglings, be back by 2000 hours. Don't be late."

"Yes, Appa."

They left quickly. "What was Sift talking about?" Arcee asked curiously. Ratchet shrugged the question off. "Come on. We've got two cycles to do what we like. Let's not waste it."

The park was really a small flat piece of ground, with the right side a playground, where the younger bots played, and the left, empty with benches on the sides, where retirees liked to while away their time. Ratchet dragged her and her brother over to the swings. She stared at the contraption warily.

"Me first!" Ratchet grinned at Prowl. "Okay."

Arcee frowned. "How does this work, exactly?"

Ratchet tried to explain. "You have to sit, and push off the ground - or somebody pushes you - and then you go up..."

Her frown deepened. "What if you fall off?"

"Look, you won't fall. It's perfectly safe. Look at them-" He pointed at a few sparklings, who were playing on the other swing. "It's safe." She didn't seem very convinced, but Prowl had already climbed onto the seat. Ratchet pulled him back and gave a small push, so that he wouldn't alarm the sparkling. Prowl's optics went wide as he soared into the air. Arcee watched nervously. Ratchet pushed him a second time. This time, the sparkling let out a whoop of joy. Arcee looked stunned. Ratchet smirked. "I told you."

After a while and a little bit of coaxing, Prowl agreed to let Arcee have a go. Eventually she figured out how to swing on her own, and Ratchet leaned back against the bars to watch. Her face was entertaining: it was smiling (involuntarily, apparently) while she climbed to the apex of her swing, then she bit her lips and braced herself for the swoop in her tanks as she crashed back down. He'd never seen her so happy. He guessed that Prowl hadn't either - at least, not in a long while - and he grinned widely every time Arcee smiled.

Keep her occupied? Check. Take that, Yoketron.

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